


In Order

by Mazarin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Jealousy, Kinkmeme, M/M, Spanking, posessiveness, power dynammics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade wants his boyfriend to get his priorities in order. In other words, Sherlock isn't first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Order

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sherlock kinkmeme oh, a ways back. I'd forgotten about it entirely until recently, so I thought I'd post it here. A bit of a rewrite from the meme to clear up some consent issues that bothered me in the original, but otherwise pretty much as the prompt called for - a little spanking. :)

“You know,” Greg says as he kisses his way down John’s naked back, “I really think you owe me one for running out on me earlier today.”

John pushes his head up off of his folded arms and turns a lazy smile in Greg’s direction. “You wish. You know what he’s like – if I hadn’t, he’d have shown up anyway. Best to head him off before it just gets ugly. Or homicidal, depending on whether Anderson is involved.” John hums in delight at the feel of Greg’s fingers trailing down, down, down, over the small of his back and the curve of his arse, featherlight touches that spark and dance across his skin. “Besides, I gave you a proper seeing to earlier. And that position is actually quite difficult, by the way. I think we’re even.”

“Oh no, you don’t get off that easily.” Greg slowly pulls John up by the hips. John readily complies with the unspoken request, arse in the air and his shoulders still resting on the bed. A nice, slow, languid fuck really would put the cap on the evening. Sherlock had texted a few hours earlier, just when things had been getting a bit sweaty on Greg’s sofa; an imperious demand for assitance whose lofty tone practically dripped from the screen and put paid to any further fooling around on their part—at least for a while.

“That so?” John asks, languidly arching his back. Greg really was an understanding bloke, most times. John figured it was a small risk, balancing Greg’s disappointment with having Sherlock show up at Greg’s flat at an inopportune moment.

Greg smiles, a mischievous smirk that has John on high alert but before he can move, Greg has one arm wrapped around John’s waist, pinning him. “I think you need to be reminded where your priorities are,” he says, and lays a slap right to John’s upturned arse.

“Ouch! Hey! That hurt! What the hell are you – “ John’s cut off as Greg pulls him in close to growl in his ear.

“Rearranging your priorities, pet,” he says, pressing the length of his body against John’s back.  “Planning to leave me hard and aching on the sofa again?”

John could stop this at any time, he knows; he could have Greg flat on his back on the floor in five seconds. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into Greg tonight, but the possessiveness in his voice is making John tingle, a wave of arousal making him hard, making him _want_.

“No,” he says, shifting a bit to press back against Greg’s body. “I didn’t want to leave, but Sherlock, he –“

Greg swats him again, the double hit making his skin feel flush. Another blow lands and this time it’s hard, forceful enough that John grunts a little with the pain of it. “I don’t want to hear his name in this room, understood?” Greg smoothes his hand over John’s arse, the skin tingling and sensitive. “I don’t care what he wants. I want to be the most important man in your life, John. Me. Only me.” Greg kisses John’s rear gently, kneading the muscles and sliding his fingers between John’s buttocks.

John blinks a bit with the pain and suddenly serious tone. “Of course you are,” he says, and the words are almost a moan. Something is going on here, something more than just a little lover’s play, but John isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Greg pulls his hand back and lands a quick hit in the same place. This time the sharp sting of contact sizzles up John’s spine, making him cry out.

“Oh god, John, you’re so gorgeous like this,” Greg spanks him again and John’s vision goes a bit fuzzy, pleasure and pain warring in his brain, resulting in a throbbing erection that’s almost pulsing with his heartbeat. When Greg lets go of him he almost collapses, but Greg catches him again from behind, between John’s thighs. “You all right?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, God, yes. Please,” is all he can say. He’s more than ready, hoping Greg won’t draw it out much longer.  He hears the click of a cap, the slick feeling of lubed fingers pushing into his body, the sensation flaring up his spine, his shoulders, his head, until all he can do is moan, a wanton noise that sounds almost vulgar, even to himself. John’s quivering at the edge of exquisite bliss, waiting for the push that will send him over the edge into oblivion.

It comes when Greg slides into his body in a slow, smooth stroke, his cock just big enough to stretch a bit more than John had been comfortable with before. “God, Greg, it’s perfect, please, fuck me, oh – “ John’s almost gone when Greg wraps an arm around his waist to stroke his cock, drawing out his pleasure and keeping it taut, a fine wire singing with tension and ready to snap.

Greg thrusts into his body in short, quick motions, hips hitting John’s still-tingling arse and that’s all it takes, a few sharp reminders of what transpired earlier and John’s crying out, spilling over Greg’s fingers.

His orgasm trips Greg’s in a matter of moments. He drapes his body over John’s back, wrapping his arms around John’s chest and pushing into him in a final, hard thrust that leaves him shaking and calling out John’s name.

They stay together a moment in the dim, quiet room, sweat cooling on their bodies, until John realizes his arm is asleep. He groans and pushes Greg up and off of him, snagging a couple of tissues from the bedside table in a half-hearted attempt at a cleanup.

Greg is oddly quiet the entire time, and when John turns back to him, he’s looking at John with a pensive expression.

“What is it?” John asks quietly.

“Was that…ok?” he says, and the soft uncertainty in his voice is almost heartbreaking.

“Yes, of course,” John hurries to reassure him. “It was fine, perfect, really. A bit unexpected, perhaps.”

“I’m sorry – It started out as a bit of a joke and I… I just…I want more than this, John,” Greg says in a rush, pulling John back down to the bed and resting his head on John’s chest. “Playing second fiddle to Sherlock all of the time. I want you to look at me and know how much I adore you. That making you laugh makes my entire day. That you’re the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me, bar none.”

John’s heart swells with happiness. Their relationship is still a bit new, but he can feel the rightness of it in his bones, his heart content for the first time in a long time. He ducks his chin to kiss Greg on the top of the head and tightens his arms around his shoulders. “Me too, you daft thing,” he says fondly. “And as for Sherlock – you know how he is. I’ll try my best, but some days there’s no managing him. Now get some sleep. You’ve been up for almost 20 hours.”

“Yes, dear,” Greg says, a sarcastic lilt in his voice. John smiles and settles against the pillows, ready to doze off, when his mobile vibrates from the nightstand. He feels Greg tense next to him as he checks the screen.

Sherlock.

He smiles, gives Greg a little squeeze, and pitches his mobile across the room, where it lands with a satisfying thud.

 

 

 


End file.
